Invaluable Emily

“My mother always told me never to talk to strangers, so I decided I would read to them instead. I treat the stories of my misfortunes with the hope that they can act as lessons to some, but ultimately to help us all feel a little less alone, and take a step towards feeling loved and understood.”
~Invaluable Emily

Ismay in dismay

I was welcome to party above the party, and use to believe that to be accepted was all I needed. Just being up here won’t quench that feeling, so I reach my hand down from what seems like the ceiling. The sea swells so I pick up a sea-shell and capture the only sound I want to hear: do you hear that? They are screaming up to me. Dancing with the devil on this railing, I won’t let go, but I’m praying to slip, and the Atlantic is begging to engulf me. The music should have been the only beat that my social circulatory required to withhold freezing over the bitter cold impulse to come back to the reality that I’m still isolated. I don’t mix well with this company, but you do, so trade contents with me because I am not well enough to trick these people into thinking I fit in when all I feel is empty. Four drinks to wash out my thoughts of you that are crashing into my memory. Three more to founder the not so fond realization that we never found our happiness on dry land or in these bottles. There is a sea for every sin, but I have nine lives so give me two more drinks to flood out the triangle because you can’t love in threes. It was worth a shot, but our failure is an anchor around my ankle. A sea of people, shouting and clinging onto their partners. Are they drowning too, or is it just me? As the room begins to spin, so do we; dancing a less tamed tango, desperation is our only beat. Hands that grabbed my face in the way every man should know how to do. A kiss so toxic I swore it was his lips that had me intoxicated. This is how my pulse should be elevated, not because of the strikes from you.

"You don’t have to go through with this you know, this isn’t who you are."
I begin laughing and smiling to avoid honesty, so we can continue sailing ahead, and hit my misery at full speed. Streetlights faded into his bedroom lights, and we have less than an hour until you and I completely sink. Would you tell me I was wrong to want to spend one night without feeling alone in someones company? It’s high tide, and high time that I be tied up with my moans muffled in his bed. Instead he has me floating on his door, holding me up and holding my hand. I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry.. I love— I never promised you this warped soul, so why am I keeping my eyes closed if I’m trying to let you go. I open my eyes again to the touch of his hands, tracing the bruises on my skin, kissing every cluster of your disappointment in me. He treated them as if they were constellations, with his stargazing eyes he said, “You are beautiful, and will you please stay the night?" Oh, but I lost my heart at the bottom of the sea; I still couldn’t tell him his heart wasn’t the beat that put me to sleep. As I gather my things, and open the door to leave, I hear one question, “Is he better than me?"